His Last Farewell
by sherliel
Summary: Sherlock disappeared.


_A/N: Sorry if there are any punctuation/spelling mistakes :c I'm no native speaker, unfortunately. _

_Enjoy reading :)_

"_So … you go away?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Where to?"_

"_I can't tell you."_

"_Why?"_

"_It's__priority level top secre__t.__"_

"_How long will you be away?"_

"_I don't know. Goodbye, John."_

It was one of those sleepless nights where John lay on his back staring up at the ceiling, his hands intertwined on his stomach. After the wedding, Sherlock disappeared. One phone call, that was the last time they have heard each other. Ten months have passed since then.

John replayed the conversation over and over which probably led to his almost nightly nightmares.

He turned around facing his wife. A beautiful woman. She was just so wonderful sleeping, it would have been rude to disturb her sleep and end her dream.

John decided it would be better if he got up. He couldn't fall asleep anyway. He slowly pulled the blanket away and stepped out the bed. In silent steps he exited the room not wanting to wake Mary. It was 3 a.m.; even the world seemed to have adapted John's mood. Everything was dark outside. Well, what do you expect at 3 in the morning. John only heard the rain lashing against the window panes as he walked down the stairs. He didn't dare turning on the lights but the darkness made it hard to not miss a step. When he successfully managed to find his way down the hall without falling over his feet, he headed towards the kitchen. He put on the kettle to make himself tea. When the water finished being heated, John poured it into his teacup and sat in his armchair opposite the big window in the sitting room. He watched two water drops melt into one. Another one joined. The drops merged into a big water drop, which couldn't find hold any more and suddenly fell off the pane. John watched this happen for a while. Every now and then he took a sip of his tea. After half an hour he lost track and only stared into the distance.

"_So … you go away?"_

"_Yes."_

The sun has risen and everything was lighted. John heard footsteps from upstairs. Mary was awake. John took one last sip of his tea. It was cold. He stood up and went to the kitchen where he emptied the cup. It was 7 a.m. by now. Apparently, he had spent the whole time staring through the window. Mary joined John in the kitchen and greeted him with a brief kiss on his cheek.

"Good morning."

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, but when I woke up my lovely husband wasn't next to me. Do you know where he went?"

Mary chuckled.

John forced a smile.

"Is it Sherlock again?" Mary said looking worried at John.

Sometimes, John woke Mary in the middle of the night just to be sure that Mary still was there and that she still was the same. When they had trouble falling asleep again they stared at the ceiling together, holding hands and talking about whatever came to their minds.

"Hm." John hummed.

Mary invited him into a hug. She stroke his back while he was sobbing. He didn't actually cry, it was just hard for him to breath correctly.

Later that day, John and Mary walked through the city of London. They went into a restaurant to have dinner. Mary hoped she could distract John a bit. At least for five minutes. Without success.

"_Where to?"_

"_I can't tell you." _

They sat in the restaurant which reminded him of Angelo's, the restaurant he was with Sherlock on their first evening. John ate very little but at least he ate something.

He remembered their first case together. Sherlock told John he wouldn't speak for days on end. John didn't bother much at that time. But now he would give anything to just have Sherlock's name popped up on his phone screen; to just hear a 'Hello, John'; to have a sign of life from his best friend.

"John, are you paying attention?" Mary interrupted John's thoughts.

"Oh I'm so sorry, what did you say?" John looked confused and guilty.

It didn't happen that much that John didn't pay attention. Since the day they've met, John couldn't take his eyes off of Mary, he always listened to Mary, always answered when needed.

"Nevermind." She smiled at his husband and cupped his face with one hand. "He is alright, John. He will come back. Promise."

"You can't promise it. You, too, don't know where he is or what he does." John overreacted a bit at his wife's words.

"But he is Sherlock Holmes, isn't he? He jumped off a building and, God knows how, survived." John's eyes widened. Yes, he was Sherlock Holmes but the thought of him jumping off a building and NOT survive … "Oh my God, John. I am SO sorr–"

"It's fine." He finished the conversation.

"_Why?"_

"_It's priority level top secret."_

He stared out the window of the restaurant. He completely ignored Mary now.

As he stared out, he saw a black car stopping at the kerb infront of the restaurant. Mycroft. It certainly was Mycroft. John gave Mary a brief apologising glance and stood up from his chair. He headed towards the door and walked out the restaurant. It already started dawning, which John hadn't realised 'till now. John never took his eyes off of the black car. He needed to know what happened to his best friend. Surely, Mycroft would know where Sherlock was.

When he was six feet away from the car, the door opened. He stepped in.

"Hello, John"

"_How long will you be away?"_

"_I don't know. Goodbye, John."_

"Sorry, I can't tell you where Sherlock is."

"Why? Don't I have some kind of right to know where Sherlock, my best friend, my former flatmate, my best man is?"

"Indeed, but it's a secret business, John. There are three people who know about this very issue. The Queen, Me and Sherlock."

"Mycroft, you know you can trust me."

"I can't trust anyone, John."

John became silent.

As the car stopped, he first didn't know where he was. Both of them exited the car. When John stepped on the pavement, he suddenly realised where he was. There was this big bloodstain on the pavement. Obviously, they hadn't cleaned it up. John stopped abruptly. He turned around, facing Mycroft.

"What are you trying to tell me, Mycroft?"

"Goodbye, John."

Mycroft entered the car and disappeared in the darkness.

As he looked back at the bloodstain something dawned him.

The realization hit him hard.

"_Goodbye, John_". He heard this once before. The whole conversation has run through his head a billion times but he never realised this. Shortly before Sherlock jumped –

John fell to the ground. His eyes went blank. It seemed like the whole world just vanished. It was only him now.

'B-But he is Sherlock Holmes. He always came back. So why wouldn't he now?

He is unharmed. He is alright...'

"_**He is alive. **_

_**Right?"**_

**After all, he is Sherlock bloody Holmes. He always comes back. **


End file.
